


Touch Me, Trust Me

by Mistressaq



Series: Kamjie [3]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Blindfolds, Consensual Kink, F/F, Intimacy, Latex, Married Sex, Overthinking, Romance, Rubber, Sensation Play, Spanking, Useless Lesbians, bc who can say no to vanjie, kameron is an insecure dom, she likes giving vanjie what she wants, well brooke apparently but i digress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistressaq/pseuds/Mistressaq
Summary: Kameron knew it was getting to be Time again. She’s heard that kink scenes should be on some sort of schedule, planned out ahead of time, and to some degree, theirs are. She just never quite knows when it’s going to happen.So it came as a relief when, about an hour before lunch, she got a text from Vanessa.It ok if we play tonite?
Relationships: Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels
Series: Kamjie [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816390
Kudos: 13





	Touch Me, Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is in the same universe as my other Kamjie fics, Lost & Found and Bread & Butter. Takes place after both fics, not long after Bread&Butter if you want to know what order to read them in though they're self contained. This one's the most explicit and romantic

Kameron knew it was getting to be Time again. She’d heard that kink scenes should be on some sort of schedule, planned out ahead of time, and to some degree, theirs were. She just never quite knew when it was going to happen. With convention planning season in full swing, her wife had been bringing work home in more ways than one. Half the time when Kam talked to her, Vanessa’s eyes couldn't manage to stay in the room with her. 

So it came as a relief when, about an hour before lunch, she got a text from Vanessa. 

_ It ok if we play tonite?  _

Kam shot back two messages within a minute of receiving her wife’s text. 

_ Of course.  _

_ It’s been too long. _

Ever since, Kameron hads been rehearsing what she was gonna use on Vanessa. Serrated pizza cutter, because that was’s something new her wife wanted to try. The classics: ice, candle wax, the long silk scarf ‘Ness loved to be bound with. Expensive things, like the one genuine pearl necklace they share, plus a vintage mink muff Kam had picked up at an estate sale (Kameron argued that the animals had died before either of them were born, so it’s not like they were directly contributing to anything icky). She pulled out the bottom drawer that contained all their winter gear for when they left California, and snatched the cashmere gloves Vanessa had bought for her last time they went to Zürich. 

Her head was half in the clouds even as she drove to the flower shop. So much so that when asked what she wanted, Kameron had completely forgotten. It was the kind of small embarrassment she would usually text Vanessa about, but she couldn’t let on she’d been to the flower shop. That’d give away that flowers were involved, and Kameron prided herself on being able to pleasantly surprise her wife with each scene.

By two pm, with three hours before Vanessa got home, it dawned on Kameron that it had been literal months since she’d last worn her Domme outfit. That thing let you know when you put on five pounds, and Kameron had been to half a dozen fancy dinners in that time. Oh God, if she couldn’t fit into the outfit she’d have to come up with an alternative and Jesus Christ, it wasn’t like she kept a surplus of latex bodysuits in her closet, who did? Could you rent this kind of gear? Would she even want to do that? Could she just do it naked, would that be appropriate? For the domme to be wearing less clothes than the sub? All of this whirred around in Kameron’s head, letting less and less air into her lungs as she tore apart their closets looking for the damn thing. 

After a good half hour of panicking, Kameron forced herself to sit down and chill the fuck out. She did some breathing exercises, some grounding visualizations, and a couple yoga poses. Suddenly it hit her: she had never put the bodysuit in any of the closets. She’d washed it by hand with soap and water in their double shower, toweled it off, and stored it in a dark and cool environment. Just like the lady at the store had said to. Picking up pieces of stray clothing on her way, Kameron padded over to her and Vanessa’s bed. She dropped to her hands and knees and turned on the LED flashlight from her bedside table. Sure enough, there She was, lying exactly where Kameron had put Her three months ago.

Thankfully, the front clasps on the bodice shut, though it was a tighter fit than it had been last time. She was going full makeover montage in the walk-in closet, pairing different shoes and pulling on different pairs of fishnets or pantyhose, slipping on the fingerless gloves she’d worn as Lady Beetlejuice one Halloween. Or maybe that was Sexy Mad Hatter. She raided their joint makeup drawer to go through all the lipsticks they owned to find the best one -- why so many reds? Surely they didn’t need all these red lipsticks, but Kameron knew better than to throw anything out before asking, or at least notifying, her wife. Sitting in front of the vanity and glancing at the clock, Kameron cursed herself for fucking around in the closet for so long. 

She picked up her phone. Vanessa knew to text her when she was leaving, right? She had a message drafted to send to her wife, only to delete it and set her phone face down. Kameron glared at her reflection. “God, girl, why’re you acting like you’ve never done this before?” She’d never been this neurotic before a scene. what if she wouldn’t be able to get into that Domme headspace like Vanessa needed her to? She couldn’t hide behind the excuse of being a beginner anymore, how can she measure up to Vanessa’s fantasies?

Fuck it. Kameron set the shade she’d decided on, lash glue and lashes on the vanity, then left to head into the kitchen. She pulled the Cab Sauv out of the wine cabinet and poured herself half a glass, immediately downing it. Kameron took a deep breath and grabbed the last of the fudge from the refrigerator, popping it into the microwave for thirty seconds. Vanessa always insisted fudge was best just out of the fridge, but Kameron liked it at least a little warm on the edges, a little sticky, a little runny. After another glass and three fudge squares, Kameron found her nerves settling, her fears receding. 

Just in time, as it turned out, for her phone to buzz on the charging dock. Kameron’s ‘Classic Soul’ playlist muted itself for half a second to receive the message. 

_ Out of office in 5min _

Her stomach lurched. It was all she could do to swipe back a _ ‘see you soon’  _ and a kissyface emoji. She stuck her glass in the dishwasher, pulled the Cheesecake Factory box out of the fridge and put the Cab bottle on the kitchen island. Using a pie server and a beef fork (which they owned despite not eating beef), Kameron delicately lifted the slice of raspberry-dark chocolate-cheesecake from the takeaway box and onto a nice china dish. She made sure to leave a fork for Vanessa to eat with (a mistake she’d made before), one of the heavy, real-silver pieces. Lastly, Kameron wiped the dust out of one of their nice, slim wine glasses and placed it in front of the bottle, next to the cheesecake. She still had some finishing touches she wanted to do-- lighting and whatnot, but before Kameron would let herself go all in on the details. She had to do her hair and face. Vanessa’s ETA was twenty minutes, and she still didn’t have a lash on!

____

Vanessa refused to feel bad about charging the company card for the town car she called to take her home. Her car would be perfectly safe in the company’s reserved covered parking. She remembered earning that spot-- it had come with the promotion. She knew Kameron wouldn’t want her to drive in this kind of mood -- especially with her history and the already steep price they paid for car insurance. Besides that, the last thing Vanessa wanted to do right now was navigate city traffic. This week, culminating in today, had been hell. Before she’d even been promoted, she’d told her therapist, “It feels like everything is falling apart and it’s all my fault.” That was before she and Kameron had moved in together, long before they were married. And to some extent, she still felt like that. Except now, she recognized very few of the issues were her fault, but they  _ were _ her responsibility, as it was literally her job to make sure shit was getting done. Not just that it was getting done, but that it was getting done to company standard, that it was done at the right time and that the people working on it had what they needed. But this week… 

She had the team almost on track to have this project ready by the deadline (it was looking like the morning of, but still). Then, four days ago, a Higher Up made an offhand reference that the deadline would have to be pushed forward. According to the grapevine, it was to give another team some more time, but of course they couldn’t punish them for managing time badly, now Vanessa had to rush production and preparation when they were only barely gonna meet the previous deadline and all this was made worse by the fact that her team couldn’t get with the picture. 

“It’s like all my employees all got into the same surfing accident that gave them all brain damage,” she’d vented to Kameron a few days ago. “No one remembers what the fuck they’re supposed to be doing.” Kameron had chuckled and Vanessa doubled down. “Seriously! Am I the only one not taking fucking stupid pills?” As if mass incompetency and the pressure of deadlines wasn’t enough, she was helping train a brand new team of recruits who at least had an excuse for why they knew literally nothing. And their near constant questions -- Vanessa already had headlines flashing across her vision: “Project Manager Pushes 19-year-old Intern off Balcony.” 

Vanessa let out a long breath as she sank into the leather seat in the towncar. She felt the muscles in her shoulders and jaw relax like they’ve been coiled stiff for days. In truth, they might have been. In fact, now that she was relaxing, Vanessa felt herself falling too deeply, like she might just pass out in this stranger’s car. Shaking herself, she struck up a conversation with the driver, Pietro, and managed to keep him talking until the end of the ride. After thanking Pietro and tipping him 20$ in cash, Vanessa turned and walked up the driveway to her home.  _ Their _ home.

The garage side door was unlocked, which Kameron often did so Vanessa wouldn’t have to fish around in her purse for her keys. Letting herself in, she put her purse and jacket down on the laundry machine, and got a first look of the kitchen area. The lights were off, and little flickering no-flame candles dotted the kitchen island and bar area. Those little lights reflected off of an empty wine glass and the surface of the fancy china plate upon which sat a fat slice of chocolate cheesecake. A smile immediately spread across her tired cheeks, a warmth rising in her exhausted soul. Vanessa heaved a sigh, excitedly crossing the floor, kicking her shoes off and into a corner. She picked up the fork and dove right into her treat, and was halfway done before even remembering the wine was there in the first place. She poured herself half a glass, relishing in how well her wife knew what she’d want most after a stressful day. And thinking of what she wanted… 

As she drank her wine and finished off her cheesecake, Vanessa gently swayed and twirled to a R&B ballad playing from the wireless speaker over by the coffeemaker. Gently shaking out the ache in her feet, rolling her shoulders, running her fingers through her hair, Vanessa was enjoying the time to herself, living only in the moment so much that she startled and almost dropped her glass at the sound of her wife’s familiar voice.

“Take your time,” Kameron said. 

Vanessa whirled around, pressing her palm to her chest in an effort to soothe her suddenly racing heart. In the dim light it was hard to see, but oh boy, she was wearing That Outfit. Vanessa found her throat suddenly dry. She gulped.

Positioned against the edge of the bar that segmented the kitchen from the dining room, Kameron seemed to lean in the light fully knowing what she was doing. It made Vanessa feel small in a delightful, relieving way. At work, she always had to project the energy of someone three feet taller than she actually was, just to get basic respect. Now, as her taste buds sang with wine and chocolate, and Kameron looked down on her Like That while dressed Like That and standing Like That… she felt the urge to slink to her hands and knees before her. 

Those eyes, way up there, stared at her expectantly. “Vanessa?”

“Wuh-uh?” Vanessa stammered. “I mean,” she cleared her throat. “Yes ma’am?”

Kameron’s lips pulled wide, flattening over her teeth. “You weren’t listening.” Her tone was a kind of amused condescension. 

“Yah, sorry, I…” Vanessa set her glass down on the kitchen island and cleared her throat. Winding her eyes up from Kameron’s knee high boots to her rubber bodysuit, she was able to get a complete sentence out of her mouth. “I got distracted.”

Kameron tossed long copper locks over her shoulder and laughed. “Well that’s understandable.” 

Vanessa felt herself blush. Already getting excited from flirting--  _ damn Vanj get a hold of yourself _ .

“I just said to take your time finishing up and when you’re ready, follow the petals to the playroom,” said Kameron. “You know, in case you forgot,” she teased.

That tone, that sweet, smooth voice was the exact one she used around babies and animals. It both soothed and patronized her wife, who felt both comfort and embarrassment whirling around inside. The cocktail of emotions kept her heart rate at a canter. All she could do was nod in acknowledgement. “It  _ has _ been a long time.”

Kameron swung one leg out from behind the other, allowing her body to pivot with a kind of careless grace, sticking out her ass for good measure. Over her shoulder she looked back at Vanessa. “You know where I’ll be.” She dismissed herself before disappearing around the corner.

_ Forgive me, _ Vanessa whispered to no one in particular before slamming the remainder of her glass and following the trail of battery-powered candles and flower petals directly to the door of their playroom. 

More tiny lights dotted the surfaces of what doubled as their guest room. The pull-out couch was tucked in, World Market throw pillows nicely arranged on the cushions and against the arms. Also laid out were stacks of white fluffy towels. The empty space in the room was filled by the foldable massage table, covered with another fluffy white towel. Behind the table stood Kameron, holding a lighter to the wick of an unmarked scented candle. Without so much as looking up at Vanessa, her wife said, “Undress to your comfort level and lie facedown on the table.”

Vanessa swallowed and wondered what her comfort level actually was. As she bent over to pull off her pantyhose, she was cripplingly aware of how Kameron was ignoring her. Usually she’d at least get an appreciative gaze as her top opened when she bent over, a comment on how her butt strained in her slacks. Now, as she folded her top and placed it on top of her folded slacks and rolled-up hose, Vanessa had yet to catch a glimpse of Kameron’s eyes beneath her exaggerated lashes. It felt weird, and she didn’t like it. 

She cleared her throat. Kameron looked at her, eyes drawn below Vanessa’s face for a fraction of a second. Almost too quick to catch. Almost. It satisfied Vanessa. She grabbed the material at the middle of her bra and held Kameron’s gaze. 

Kameron cocked her head to one side. “Do you need help?”

“Nah, I need you to look at me and tell me the emergency word.” It occurred to her that they hadn’t discussed it in months and she kinda didn’t remember what word they used. It was a special word she wouldn’t get tongue-tied over or forget.

Kameron brought a finger to her chin. They were five feet apart, and it felt like it. “How about 9-1-1?”

Vanessa pressed her lips together. “That sounds about right. Okay.” She snapped open the front clasp on her bra and whipped it off, dropping it haphazardly onto the stack of her other clothes. In the still-dim light, she may have imagined it, but she could have sworn she saw the very edge of her wife’s mouth curl into a smile as she watched her climb onto the massage table.

With her face squished into the rounded cushion, she was already unable to see anything. Suddenly remembering she hadn’t taken her makeup off, Vanessa contemplated stopping the scene. Then Kameron got to work on her stiff shoulders, and her worries about looking like a fucked-up raccoon melted away. The only noise was the faint music coming from the kitchen. Vanessa relaxed completely, pliant under her wife’s sure yet gentle touch. She felt once again like she had in the car, as if she was about to fall asleep. Evidently, her wife could tell. 

“I’m gonna let you smell this nice body oil,” said Kameron. 

Vanessa winced at her sudden volume in the previously calm room. The air in front of -- or rather beneath -- her face shifted, and Vanessa breathed in deeply through her nose. “Mm, love lavender.”

“I know,” hummed Kameron. She stuck her hand out again. “What else?”

“Mm?” said Vanessa.

Kameron leaned closer to her wife’s ear and pulled her hair out of the way.  _ “What else do you smell?” _ she enunciated.

“Oh.” Vanessa took another whiff. “There’s like, it also smells like, like soap, like stuff you probably shouldn’t eat.”

Kameron hummed. “You can get closer than that.”

Vanessa thought hard, the effort of which created new tension in her back for Kameron to work on. Which ended up working too well, as Vanessa completely forgot what she was supposed to be thinking about. 

Again Kameron bent down right within breathing distance of Vanessa’s ear.  _ “C’mon love,”  _ she purred, sending a visible shiver down Vanessa’s spine. “You’re a smart girl, I know you can get this. Lavender and…”

“Right, uh.” Vanessa cleared her throat. “Mint.”

Kameron sucked her teeth. “Close, but no cigar. Gonna have to switch scents--”

“Hey wait a second!” Vanessa’s hand was suddenly wrapped around Kameron’s knee. “You not gonna tell me what it was?!”

Kameron tittered, a sound that made Vanessa’s nipples poke hard against the towels. The brunette pressed her knees together. She felt Kameron’s hand between her shoulders, fingertips winding their way up to the nape of her neck, poking at her shoulder blades, zig-zagging over her spine. The other hand opened a second bottle of massage oil with an audible  _ pop! _

Vanessa pursed her lips in frustration. “Fine,” she huffed. “Gimme another one.”

There was a squirting sound and Vanessa heard her wife rubbing her hands together. Already she was picking up another scent. Confidently, she called it out: “Citrus.”

“Correct,” said Kameron, swirling the gel solution over the top of her wife’s shoulders. “But what kind?”

“Oranges,” Vanessa answered. She was still confident, remembering the scent of orange groves, and walking through, the smell so saturated you’d go almost giddy. There may have been some other element in there that she was missing, or they might also have grapefruit thrown in or whatever, but above all was the unmistakable tangy sweetness of oranges.

“Very good.” Kameron pulled Vanessa's arm away from her body and started kneading the muscles around her shoulder and down toward her elbow. She let a few minutes of silence go by as she worked her way down her lover’s arm, before saying, “It was rosemary.”

“Mmh?” grunted Vanessa.

“That first massage oil.” 

She heard the smile in Kameron’s voice. 

“Was lavender and rosemary.”

Vanessa’s eyes snapped open. She balled her hand into a fist -- a loose one, with how pliant Kameron had her on that side.  _ “That’s _ the thing that smelled like soap-- rosemary. Damn, I haven't smelled rosemary in years. Now I remember why!”

Kameron laughed. Her trying-not-to-laugh laugh, which involved giggling in the back of her throat in a way that reminded Vanessa of her impression of a chicken. She never managed to sound so much like the bird when she was trying to, as when she was suppressing laughter. Or trying to, anyway.

The laughing woman suddenly got ahold of herself. “God,” she hissed. “We’re supposed to stay in character!”

Vanessa craned her neck, pulling her face out of the hole in the cushion. She couldn't open her eyes all the way, but she looked back at her wife anyway. “‘S not that serious, babe,” she said. “We’re allowed to have fun.”

Kameron felt her wife’s words like sunshine down her face and neck, easing her fears of inadequacy, her insecurities that they were Doing This Wrong and Actually Kinky People would disapprove. But Vanessa was right: it was only the two of them. They could crack up and joke around a little. About to start back up, Kameron checked in. “And this is all good?”

“Yeah,” said Vanessa, sticking her face back in the hole “‘S great. I like the game.”

“Awesome,” Kameron hummed. “And the position’s still comfortable, you don’t need to shift?”

“It’s all good.” Vanessa waved her hand, clearly ready to resume. 

Kameron took a breath and counted down from five. When she got to zero, she started working on Vanessa’s other arm, kneading and pressing and rubbing the soft skin until she could feel the heat rising off her body. When she came to Vanessa’s calves and thighs, she pulled out the special serum. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the thought that the time had arrived. 

She checked to make sure the ice box was still where she had put it, and that the one real flame candle still burned on its wick. If they got that far tonight, she had the toys in the bag on the arm of the couch. Oh, okay, Kameron had been restraining herself thus far but now, now she was excited.

Vanessa again fell into that half-asleep state. With Kameron not talking, with no guessing game to keep her mind engaged, she dozed off. That is until she became aware of the sensation of being half-submerged in a hot spring. Instinctively, Vanessa picked her head up and started to push herself up from the table, but a pair of strong hands steadied her, pressing just enough to get her message across, and without forcing her down. If she really wanted to fight back, if she really wanted off, Vanessa could haul her ass off that table and run to the nearest shower. But Kameron was right there, and she knew it was alright.

“Oh, so the lather’s working then, hm?” Kameron coyly presumed. “It’s to invigorate the skin and prevent wrinkles, but it does contain insect venom, so do let me know if it gets to be too much.”

Vanessa laid down on her back, not fully ready to put her face back into the cushion.

“Face down,” Kameron corrected. She was denying Vanessa once again the respect of speaking to her face. When Vanessa didn’t comply, she got what she wanted in the form of a glare from her wife. “Okay,” snipped Kameron. “Have it your way.” With that, she bent over to rifle around in her Bag of Tricks, pulling out an item that sent visible chills down Vanessa’s body. 

The silk scarf had been among the first real gifts Kameron had given her wife -- originally a treat for herself. However, when they went on that trip to Zürich, and Kameron had pulled out the decadent material to wind around her neck, Vanessa had been unable to stop herself from staring, from leaning over to kiss her wife on the neck, just to peel the silk away from Kameron’s skin, to run the fabric over her fingers. While on their trip, Kameron had tried something new, winding the scarf around her lover’s arms and waist as they made love in their overpriced hotel room. Naturally, Kameron bought herself a new scarf and gifted the silk one to Vanessa. Back home in California, these scenes were the only use the garment got.

Kameron wound the fabric around and around her hands, watching Vanessa's eyes follow her every movement. The anticipation built up in her body until Kameron pulled her hands around Vanessa’s head, severing her sense of sight. The girl’s nipples were rock hard, and looking at her in this way, Kameron didn’t suppress her laughter. She watched Vanessa’s neck flush under her light brown skin, saw her fingers making small indents in the padding of the table. Her nostrils flared and she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth. 

Kameron tapped Vanessa’s mouth, the tiny bit of contact making the girl flinch. “None of that,” she said. “You’ll make yourself bleed. Maybe I have to gag you so you stop biting yourself.”

Vanessa shook her head frantically, remaining silent as if the scarf were covering more than just her eyes. 

“No? You’ll be good?” Kameron prodded. 

Vanessa nodded emphatically. 

“And what about these?” The taller woman walked her long fingers over to where Vanessa’s hands were supporting her weight. There was a miniscule muscle jerk when Kameron touched her, but Vanessa almost leaned into the touch. Almost. “Do I need to tie these too, or can you be  _ extra _ good for me?”

“I’ll sit on ‘em if I have to.” 

Kameron let out a single chuckle. Slowly, so her lover could sense the approach, she reached out to caress her cheek, and allowed Vanessa to bend ever so slightly into the touch. Again there was that twinge of  _ ‘a real domme wouldn’t allow this.’ _ Kameron silenced that voice by directing her sub to lie back down and preparing the second lather. Now with the blindfold secured around her head, Vanessa had no problem going face-down again.

“Does it still sting?” Vanessa replied in the negative, but Kameron applied the soothing serum anyway, just in case. This one fizzed and bubbled to make sure none of the first solution got trapped in Vanessa’s skin. 

Up next, Kameron pulled out three transparent glass balls, each about an inch and a half in diameter. They’d been sitting on a hot pad, and were still noticeably warm when she held them in her hand and when she rolled them up her own arm, but too hot. If the heat was gonna cause some chemical reaction with the lotions, it would have been immediate. After a minute of testing, she plopped them down on Vanessa’s lower back and used her hand to guide them around Vanessa’s spine. At Vanessa’s sides, her hands clenched into fists, her shoulders and asscheeks tensing. “Something the matter?”

Vanessa turned her head. “Just, the  _ noise.” _ She grimaced.

Kameron nodded slowly, recognizing that when the massage balls hit each other, they made a kind of shallow clacking noise, similar to the sound of plates knocking against one another. She had never considered the noise to be loud enough to be irritating, but then, Vanessa did say everything gets louder when the blindfold goes on. Dutifully, Kameron removed one of the oversized marbles so she could have one in each hand, to make sure they didn’t touch and make that noise again. “That better?” Vanessa nodded. Kameron continued in that cooing tone she had, “Can’t have you getting all tense again so soon. We’ve barely started.”

Vanessa’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. This time when she clenched her fingers and pursed her lips, it was for an entirely different reason. This shift in energy was not lost on Kameron, and she leaned down to grab the ice box. 

“You’re all warm and relaxed now,” she crooned. “But I think it’s time you woke up a little more.” Within a few seconds, Vanessa felt drops of cool water hit her lower back. Kameron held a chunk of ice in her fist, pain and numbness radiating through her hand as she squeezed the ice, forcing it to melt and leak all over Vanessa’s back, down to her ass. Vanessa’s already moisturized skin glistened as droplets spread into the dimples at her lower back, or fell in rivulets down her sides. She switched her hands from her sides to curl around the lip of the massage table. When Kameron checked in and she said she was good to continue, Vanessa felt one hand being pulled into the icy grasp of Death.

While still holding Vanessa’s hand in her numb one, Kameron reached out to grab one of the warm blankets, and began mopping up the water. Vanessa pressed her lips and nose to Kameron’s chilly hand. “Babe?”

Kameron went into a half-crouch to be able to read her wife’s face better (the parts that were visible anyway). “What do you need?”

Vanessa squirmed. “Can I flip? It’s gettin’ uh--”

“Absolutely.” Kameron stood, helping Vanessa push herself up from the table, her towel sticking to the sweat on her abdomen and chest. As she rose up, Vanessa grabbed her tits to support them. It was then that Kameron suppressed laughter having noticed both the impressions Vanessa’s boobs had made in the table and how obviously erect her wife’s nipples were, even through the fluffy towel. 

“Oh, baby…” she reached out to rest a hand on Vanessa’s knee, only to be shrugged off, her wife’s brown skin betraying her with a deep blush over her cheeks and neck. 

“Whatever.” Vanessa turned away. “Continue.”

“Oh so you’re in charge now?” challenged Kameron. 

Vanessa curled in on herself. “I…”

Kameron flipped her hair over her shoulder, popping up her hip in her costume, making the rubber squeak and stretch. “Who’s in charge here?”

“You are,” said Vanessa without missing a beat. 

_ “Excuse you,” _ Kameron hissed, she grabbed her wife by the jaw, her lips puckering with the pressure of Kameron’s fingers. Her left titty jiggled in time with her racing heart. Kameron smiled, her next words coming out in a sneer.  _ “What _ do you call me, insolent little  _ bitch?” _

“Madam,” uttered Vanessa, her speech impaired by Kameron’s hand. 

Kameron let go of Vanessa’s face, leaving behind reddish streaks that would fade in a few minutes. She repositioned herself with her hands at the sides of Vanessa’s face, long red hair dangling inches away from her skin. “You get Nice Madam when you act right, and give me the  _ respect _ I deserve,” she spat. 

Vanessa pressed her palms against the table and curled her legs up toward her chest, pressing her knees together, her toes curling as Kameron loomed over her, boxing her in. Her presence was overwhelming in the blackness. Vanessa held her breath, her heart still racing. “I’ll be good, ma’am,” Vanessa whispered. “I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

Kameron leaned back, leaving Vanessa’s space slightly colder than before. She felt the need to reach out for Kameron like a toddler wanting to be held. The blindfold created extremes, with very little in between. Too close and too far; too warm and too cool, too uncomfortable, too soft. It was frustrating and challenging and unexpected in all the ways that drove Vanessa mad for control. 

But she didn’t need control. 

It was as if suddenly her regular self got the message, leaving behind only Vanessa’s submissive side: a part of her she hadn’t entertained in a long time. 

Kameron noticed too, watched her wife give in and stop fighting. Somewhere in her heart, she recognized what a blessing this was: the utmost intimacy, the utmost trust. And she wouldn’t have known what to do with that… if she weren’t playing into her domme side. 

“Awwe,” she pouted. “Are you ready to be good for me, pet?”

Vanessa nodded, her voice breathy. “Yes ma’am.”

Kameron walked two fingers over Vanessa’s bare shoulder to her collarbone and down between her tits, moving the towel aside so she could see better. “Mm,” Kameron purred. “I love hearing you use your manners.

“You’ve been so good with stingy hot and icy cold,” Kameron continued. “Would you like some more soft and fluffy?”

“Yes please,” said Vanessa. “I do, mom— ma’am.”

Vanessa seemed to shrink from Kameron’s gaze, probably afraid she’d get in trouble for the mistake. And maybe a better domme would have… but the ‘mommy’ thing wasn’t something they’d explored, and Kameron wasn’t about to quash a kink before they even got a chance to try it out. She filed it away for later and in the meantime grabbed her next tool. 

First she dragged the soft fur over the top of her lover’s thigh. Vanessa reacted, but was able to keep it small, reserved. Pulling the muff over Vanessa’s tummy was a different story, as the fur tickled her sides and made her legs squirm. “Awe,” Kameron chuckled, and watched red rise to her lover’s face. “Do you like that soft?” she cooed. 

“Yes ma’am,” Vanessa whispered, then cleared her throat. 

Kameron pulled it away. “I’m sorry I can’t hear you.” She bent over so the ends of her hair dangled in Vanessa’s face again. 

“Tha… thank you, madam,” Vanessa swallowed. “You’re so good to me.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Kameron gloated in her face. She grabbed her next tool. 

She started drawing the pinwheel over Vanessa’s collarbones, causing her wife to stiffen at the unfamiliar sensation. The spiked wheel spun and spun as Kameron directed it over ridges, rolling it around the circumference of Vanessa’s left tit. The poor girl’s toes curled so hard her foot cramped. Kameron solved that problem with one hand as effortlessly as she continued to tease her wife’s breasts with the other. Changing directions, speeds, how hard she pressed, Vanessa was having trouble concealing her reactions. Kameron knew already they were reaching the end of what she could take.

Kameron let out another condescending laugh. “That must have really sent a chill deep inside you, your poor nipples are  _ so hard.”  _ She pressed down on Vanessa’s hard nips with the palm of her hand.

Vanessa squirmed. In the way only Kameron knew was her body’s expression of being deeply turned on. Her wife had kept her panties on, and they were the only thing left she was wearing. Kameron had no indication of how wet her wife was under there, but she could hazard a guess. With one hand, she drew the pinwheel up into her wife’s neck, pressing lightly over spots she knew made Vanessa howl. This, as she ghosted her hand down towards the one mystery of the evening. 

Kameron’s ring finger barely caressed Vanessa over her panties and Vanessa sucked in a sudden, squeal of a breath. Her legs instinctually pulled up toward her core, protecting her entrance from oversensitivity. Kameron tsk-ed her, using her free hand to push Vanessa’s knees back onto the table. Vanessa resisted her the tiniest bit and Kameron husked a last warning. “If you keep moving you make me spank you.”

Vanessa’s body reacted, not in fear, but in anticipation. 

And Kameron knows a better domme wouldn’t give her what she wanted, but Kameron simply isn’t capable of being that mean. 

\---

With every smack, Vanessa’s hips pushed forward, only for her to rock back into the next blow. Vanessa’s wetness was against Kameron’s outer thigh. She felt the sweat and the tension and the exhaustion and the impatience curdling together within her lover, climbing with every slap. Her poor ass was gonna be raw, but Vanessa wouldn’t let her stop now. There were tears wetting her blindfold and seeping down her cheeks, and Kameron sensed from the way her thighs clenched together, with the inside of her knees pressed against one another in a way likely to leave bruises, from the way her hips back into the hits, from the way she arched down, pressing her face into a wrinkled towel, clutched in her hands… she’s There. 

She swiped Vanessa’s hair away and leaned down to nip at That Spot on her neck. Vanessa cried out in a wretched, croaking, breathless utterance that seemed to take absolutely all the strength out of her small body. 

Vanessa comes around to the sensation of cool lotion being applied to her stinging and sore ass. Her breathing ias still ragged, and she tries to blink away the stars. The scarf had been removed from her face and the room is somehow too bright. She searches with her hands and finds the silk scarf loosely wound around her neck, hanging wide enough that she can pull it around her shoulders. Vanessa runs her fingers over the fabric stretched over her arms and lets out an audible sigh. 

“Welcome back to Earth, pet.” A voice cooes from behind. 

Vanessa reaches back with her free hand. Kameron takes her hand and squeezes it, lotion getting pushed into the cracks in Vanessa’s palm. 

“Are you ready to be done?” asks Kameron softly. She’s ready to be done, for sure. And thankfully they’re still on the same page because Vanessa nods. Kameron almost asks if it hurt too much, before remembering that her wife is mostly nonverbal just after a scene. She finishes applying the lotion and adds a kiss to one of Vanessa’s reddened cheeks, earning a questioning look from her lover. 

Seeing Vanessa become more lucid, Kameron looks at her and asks. “Are you okay to walk?”

The guest bath wasn’t nearly as nice as their ensuite, so Kameron led Vanessa hand-in-hand to the other side of the house. Her bottom was clearly uncomfortable, but Vanessa was also pretty out of it for the time being. She had gotten a word or two out of her by now though, which she knew was a good sign. 

Kameron went to turn the water on, only for Vanessa to silently grab her wrist. “I can do this,” she said softly. “You’ve been in them shoes all evenin’.”

Kameron softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. Vanessa turned on the taps and went over to the cabinet to search out a bath salt mixture. Kameron was sitting on the stool, working on getting her boots off when Vanessa turned around with two resealable bags in her hands. “Envigorating Citrus or Soothing Epsom/Baking Soda mixture?”

Having gotten one shoe off, Kameron grunted with joy. “Uh. why not a scoop of both?” she suggested. “I mean I’m pretty sure they won’t turn into acid if we mix them.” She gave a weak chuckle. 

Vanessa looked at the bags and shrugged. As the tub continued to fill, Vanessa slowly added small amounts of each grainy substance, mostly to watch how they mixed just in case. Meanwhile Kameron pulled out the side lacing of her bodysuit and tried, though she knew it was hopeless, to get out of it herself. “ ‘Ness,” she complained after having made millimeters of progress in minutes.

Vanessa turned around and worked her fingers into the leg holes so she could pull from the bottom while Kameron held herself up so she wasn’t lying on the material. “Suck in and lift on three, okay?” Kameron nodded. On her wife’s count, she lifted herself up, her bare, aching feet on the floor supporting her weight, only for Vanessa's right hand to slip off. “Shit. Okay, switching tactics.” Vanessa’s voice was frayed from the session, but she was starting to come back to herself. 

After turning the taps off, Vanessa grabbed liquid hand soap from the cabinet and indicated Kameron lean this way and that to let her leotard gape in places like her cleavage and underarms, squirting soap into these gaps, and having her move more to work the lubricant around. Kameron’s face was sour. “It already feels so gross under here,” she half-joked. “Should have known it had to get worse.”

Vanessa smirked. “Nobody said the domme gets to be free from pain and discomfort.”

“If that ain’t the truth.” Kameron shook her head. As if by magic, the right side of Kameron’s leotard came away with a noise a bit like a sloppy kiss and a bit like cracking open a soda. Together, they worked on either side, shimmying the outfit down and finally, mercifully, off. 

Vanessa picked up a flopping piece of collateral. “You want this back, or…?” 

Kameron laughed and took the fallen nipple pasty from Vanessa. “You remember what happened last time I forgot to put them on under that death trap.”

Vanessa smiled, nodding. “Your poor nips were so sore I wasn’t allowed to touch ‘em for days.”

Kameron looked down. “It lasted long enough I took a pregnancy test, sure that had to be the reason…” her voice trailed off, remembering her failure. 

Vanessa saw the familiar melancholy threatening to take over her wife and acted. She squeezed Kameron on the chin and motioned toward the tub, water spinning and frothing with zingy citrus smell. “That bath’s not gonna take itself,” she said and offered her hand. “Come on.”

Not wanting her still-reddened rear to get too submerged in the hot water, Vanessa knelt on a pillow as she pampered her wife from outside the clawfoot tub. Kameron shuddered in the water and sank lower, soaking up to the sides of her eyes. “Ugh, I forgot how gross you feel after.”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “That about the latex or something else?”

Kameron came up a few inches to look definitively at her wife. “Definitely the outfit.”

Vanessa nodded slowly. Kameron remembered the aftercare snacks and asked her wife to go get them from the guest room. She came back with two wine glasses and a purple gatorade bottle. Kameron shifted in the bath, crossing her ankles and bringing her arms up onto the edge. Vanessa had also brought in the covered cheese tray. “God, this is gay,” Kameron remarked.

Vanessa started her glass of electrolytes and handed the other to Kameron. “What other way is there?”

“Not one I’m interested in.” Kameron tapped her glass to Vanessa’s in a cheers.

Vanessa pulled up the stool, sitting on it with most of her ass hanging off, still stinging in the open air. She soaked her feet in the bath, let her wife play with her toes, her ankles. They snacked on cheese and crackers and they talked in low tones, touching each other with a casual intimacy. They talked. They talked about their days, about the scene, what they liked, what they were surprised by, how they might edit in the future. 

Vanessa had spent much of the evening trying not to fall asleep, and now she was wired, but when Kameron started yawning, Vanessa stroked her wife’s shoulder and suggested they get into bed. She fired up The Great Flower Fight on Kameron’s iPad, and the two women curled around its light. Kameron’s breathing was soft and even against the back of Vanessa’s neck before the contestants even started the week’s challenge. 


End file.
